Torchwood Shorts
by cm00ncow
Summary: Little vignettes of the travels and mishaps of various Torchwood team members. Warning: Jack is Jack and will be flirty and inappropriate. Owen is prone to swearing.
1. Desert Awakening

**Author's Note: I got sick of continuous stories with chapter after chapter... So I went and found some prompts! I then applied Torchwood to them.**

**So, most of these little vignettes will be rated differently, possibly with different warnings. Only warning here is mentioned nudity (read prompt below).**

**Prompt: Write for at least 500 words about a desert, a lack of pants and a foreign language.**

**Challenge: Include a feeling of sadness**

**Disclaimer: Torchwood is not mine to claim.**

**Desert Awakening**

When Jack awoke with his trademark gasp for air, he immediately sat up and tried to get his bearings. It was always a bit difficult to remember much of anything in the first few moments, and he wasn't sure how he had gotten in this place. A vast desert, miles and miles of sand.

He checked himself over, feeling for what was sore, trying to figure out what it was that made him die this time. To his own surprise, he found he was missing something. He was missing pants.

For a moment, he just looked confused. Then, he burst out laughing, wondering what it was that he could have possibly done to die in this way.

His laugh stopped short as he felt a cold point on his back, metal on flesh.

"Alright, no need for that," Jack said calmly, "Why don't we put the weapon down and-"

He was interrupted by a growling mangle of consonants and vowels. Not a language he recognized, if it was even an intelligent language, and not some primal animal growling.

The point in his back nudged closer to his skin, nearly cutting him. He saw a hand out of the corner of his eye telling motioning for him to get up. Slowly, slowly, he raised himself to a crouch, then stood, feeling his sore muscles ache in protest. Whatever had happened, it now resonated like a low pulse in his body as his insides continued to stitch themselves back up. Even if he did come back to life, dying still hurt like hell.

"Alright, alright," he said, "I'm up." He slowly began to shuffle in a circle, turning to face whoever held the blade at a painstaking pace. If he had a gun, things would have been different. As it was, there was nothing stashed in his coat pocket, and his belt was as gone as his pants.

The creatures said something to him once more, speaking rapidly. Granted, probably not as rapidly as the Doctor.

And then it hit him. His death wasn't an accident. Not this time. This was no falling off a building, contracting a deadly disease, or even running straight into the line of fire. This was different, although not unheard of. This was more painful. Backstabbed in the midle of the night, as he slept, thinking for once in his life he was safe. And then the truth came shattering down on him as he was told to grab his coat. There was no time for pants.

He remembered the fall, the heart-breaking descent as he dropped to his death, knowing it was only because of the betrayal of a close friend that he was to perish. Those seconds of free fall were worse than dying. The wounds and aches didn't heal when they weren't physical.

A tear slipped down his face as he remembered the grim face of the man who pushed him. The one man he trusted with his life. And that man took his life.

The small, cloaked creatures of whatever strange planet he was on, in whatever time, led him at knife-point to a sandstone building. It could have been a building of never-ending torture, for all Jack knew. But he didn't care. His life was ruined, his heart broken.

"Why, Doctor?" he asked the empty sky.


	2. Secrets

**Author's Note: Here, have another story! If you don't like Rhys/Gwen, I suggest you skip this one. It's not too terribly mushy, but if you don't like the pairing, you may have issues with this one.**

**Prompt: Write at least 800 words about a secret, a drinking glass, a book, and a circle.**

**Secrets**

Gwen was uneasy.

That was an understatement. Gwen was about to either rip her own hair out or wear a hole in the cement floor as she paced back and forth, mumbling to herself.

Rhys watched with concern as she took another swig from her drinking glass, emptying it once again. He had asked what was wrong, of course he had! It's not like he didn't care! But she wouldn't share in whatever was upsetting her, and he had long since been pushed away after physical comfort wasn't enough.

"Gwen," he tried again, trying not to let his frustration show, "Why don't you come here and try to relax. If you can't talk about it, then I can at least hold you until it's better."

"It won't help... It's been five hours and nothing... Why won't he call me?" Gwen mumbled, shaking her dark hair in her own frustration, "Five bloody hours, Rhys!"

Rhys sighed, and gritted his teeth. He supposed it was that Jack Harkness bloke she was always on about. He had been assured there was nothing between Jack and his Gwen, but his own eyes led him to believe otherwise. It wouldn't surprise him if he found out the two were doing things behind his back; he had actually begun to believe it must be true. Why else would Gwen spend so many hours at work? She never called him when she was in trouble, no, she called that boss of hers. It made him crazy!

Gwen snatched up her phone, then sighed heavily as she found no new messages, no calls. "I've got to go after him, Rhys, I have to. I'm sure I can find out where he's gone..."

Rhys snapped. "Him? You mean that boss of yours? You going to find him and shag him? Date him? Marry the bloody bastard?!"

"Rhys!" Gwen looked shocked, her mouth and eyes open wide for a moment, revealing the gap between her teeth that Rhys had fallen in love with. She soon started staring daggers at him. "That's bloody well not what's going on here! You don't know anything about the people I work with! You have no idea what's going on here!"

"Then, tell me!" Rhys replied, a bit of pleading creeping into his voice, although it still boomed thunderously.

Gwen's face melted from pure rage to saddening gloom. She slumped her shoulders and bit her lip, her eyes watering. "Rhys... I can't. I don't know what's going on..."

It was Rhys's turn to lose his anger. He was instantly at her side, comforting her. "Alright, Gwen, love, alright. I'm sorry."

He led her over to the couch, where she broke down in his embrace. "Oh, Rhys... What did I do to deserve you?" she asked, little trails of liquid cascading down her cheeks.

"Everything," he assured her, holding her close. This wasn't the normal strong Gwen who could handle everything that life threw at her and more. This Gwen had shed her tough skin and was exposing herself to him. This Gwen needed Rhys, and he was damn sure he'd make it all better for her.

"Jack was, he was on to something. He thought, he thought if he could... but he didn't know for sure-"

"Shhh, you don't need to tell me, it's okay," Rhys said, even though he was dying to know what she knew.

"But I do!" Gwen exclaimed, "You deserve to know!" She took a deep breath to calm herself. Then, she began. "Jack heard a rumour. About a book. It supposedly had the whole team in it, all of our lives spread out on a few hundred pages. Rhys, some guy knew all about my past, and he told me what would happen the next day. It occurred just as he had said."

Rhys raised an eyebrow, wondering if she was putting on an act to pull an elaborate prank on him, but he realized Gwen wouldn't do that. His buddies might, but not his Gwen.

"Jack went to find him, but he disappeared. So, Tosh did some research on the guy. He's part of this circle of book keepers. They all had a book, one that told stories of a few select people. This circle of his, well, it wasn't easy to find out about. Even Tosh only found bare minimum. Jack went out, thinking he found their hideout. Haven't seen him since."

Rhys waited to make sure she was done, then said, "Let me get this straight. Your boss is going out to find some wanker with a creepy book who's in this circle of secretive librarians?"

Gwen smiled a bit at that.

"I need a drink!" Rhys announced, getting to his feet and grabbing a new glass. He mixed together the contents of a few bottles. Then, he added, "How about you, Gwen?"

He looked over at the couch when there was no reply. Gwen had fallen asleep. She had worn herself out with all her stressing, and couldn't stay awake anymore.

Rhys smiled softly as he watched her.

His moment of peace was interrupted by the ringing of her cell phone. "Of all the times," he hissed under his breath as he dove for the mobile and answered it before it could wake his sleeping Gwen. His drinking glass did well to contain most of the liquid, but some of it sloshed out all the same.

"Gwen," a familiar voice said through the small speakers in the device.

"No. Rhys."

"Rhys, hello. Captain Jack Harkness calling."

Rhys sighed. "I suppose I'll have to wake her up and put her on, then?"

Jack replied quickly. "No, it's better this way. Look, Rhys, I have to talk to you. I read something about your future with her that I think you should hear. And I'd rather Gwen not know."

Nodding slowly, Rhys agreed. "Alright. What is it?"

Listening intently, his eyes widened. The glass in his hand hit the carpet with a soft thump, liquid staining the floor, and marking forever the strain of the secret he could never tell his girl.


	3. When the Rift is Quiet

**Author's Note: WARNING! Contains swearing and a naked Jack (no erotic details).**

**Okay, warning's out of the way... this one's a bit silly and... random. And it has a bit of Janto. Don't like, skip this one.**

**Prompt: Write at least 375 words about a hat, an eagle, and a bucket.  
Challenge: Add a promise of some sort!**

**When the Rift is Quiet...**

"Jack Harkness, you bloody fucking moron!"

Tosh watched as Owen chased after the Torchwood leader, eyes nearly red with rage. The former runner of the tag game grinned as he streaked past, wearing nothing but Owen's black hat. He shamelessly ran by Gwen, who simply stared in shock at her boss, mouth agape.

"Ianto," Jack called cheerily, "Where are you?"

Ianto popped out from behind a room, mop in hand. "Here, sir." He didn't seem too surprised at the current situation, only a bit ashamed for Jack. His ears turned red as his thoughts and eyes wandered.

"Grab the bucket and douse dead-boy, will you? He seems a bit steamed up!" Jack winked, going into the same room as Ianto. "And not in the way I prefer."

"With all due respect, sir-"

"Now, Ianto!" Jack ordered as Owen followed Jack into the room.

Ianto shrugged, figuring Owen deserved to be soaking wet in dirty, sudsy mop water. He let out a quick "Yes, sir," then picked up the bucket and flung it at Owen, retracting the bucket and letting the water fly.

"Well done!" Jack praised, standing behind Ianto and putting a hand on his shoulder approvingly. Ianto's ears were a deep, deep red, and he ducked his head.

Owen slowly opened his eyes, water dripping down his face, hair plastered to his forehead. He glared at Ianto. "I promise I'll deal with you, later, Teaboy," he growled, then turned to Jack, holding out a hand. "The hat, Jack."

Jack chuckled good-naturedly. "You do look like you need something to towel off with." Flashing a grin, he took it off his head and proceeded to rub Owen's hair with it.

Owen snatched it from his hand, teeth gritted. "Amusing, Jack. Real bloody fucking amusing." He turned round and started to walk out, wringing his shirt dry as best he could in the front.

"Sir," Ianto said, "Do you think you should put your clothes back on?"

Jack gave him a hug from behind. "And why should I do that? I don't see anyone looking. No one but you."

Clearing his throat, Ianto pulled away from Jack's arms. "I don't think now is the time. I promised Gwen I'd make coffee as soon as I finish this mop."

"Or you could show me that eagle tattoo I've always heard about, but never seen," Jack suggested, "It's always been too dark before."

Ianto snorted. "There's no eagle, sir." He grabbed the mop again and efficiently wiped up the water on the floor.

"Oh, I think I'd like to see that for myself," Jack said, stepping closer once again.

"OI! EITHER YOU PUT YOUR CLOTHES BACK ON OR I BURM 'EM!" Owen Harper's voice could be heard from the other room.

When Jack didn't move, Ianto added, "I really don't think I can find another coat like yours, sir." He paused, then admitted, "And I really like that coat."

With an exaggerated sigh, Jack turned and walked towards Owen, knowing full that Ianto was trying, and failing, not to let his gaze wander to his boss.

"I want that coat, Harper," Jack announced, watching in amusement as Gwen and Tosh averted their eyes, then started giggling quietly to each other. _Twenty-first century humans, _he thought as he strutted towards Owen to get his coat back.


	4. Canine

**Author's Note: Hey, look! A completely clean, no warning needed short story! Except a bit of Janto... But I feel like that should be expected from those two.**

**So, I was inspired by watching my dog in our yard. She looked to be on a mission of some sort. And, of course, I turned the inspiration towards our dear friends at Torchwood.**

**Anyway, enjoy and leave a review if you feel like it!**

**Canine**

He was never wrong about this sort of thing, had certainly had years to practice the skill. He could always tell when he was being watched.

Jack pretended not to notice. As of yet, he didn't know if it was the eyes of an admirer or a murderer that he could feel grazing his form. Of course, he preferred the former. Admirers often led to a good night to look forward to, whereas murderers, although sometimes just as fun in bed as admirers, led to a slightly less enjoyable time.

The dark street he was walking down was quiet and lonely. It was one of those places that looked spooky even in the daylight, and was utterly horrifying to most after sunset. To the former time agent and current leader of a secret organization, it was merely amusing; a good place to kill time and hunt weevils. Jack could think of other ways he'd like to spend his time, but his usual availabilities were fast asleep, a feat that required death for Harkness to achieve.

A skittering noise from behind the immortal man caused him to turn about, hand resting on the gun at his hip as he scanned the dim area. His blue eyes darted back and forth, coolly looking over everything in sight for the source of the noise.

What walked out if the shadows was not at all what he expected, although it was common enough. Padding along as if it owned the world, a large dog showed itself. It was a bit smaller than a Great Dane, but could probably link recent ancestry to the breed. Its face was sharper, keener, than a lovable Dane, and its dark blue eyes glittered in a way that seemed to radiate knowledge far beyond its reach. Every hair on the dog's coat was sleek and clean, portraying a perfect black saddle marking on its back, offset by an almost golden brown base coat.

Jack laughed to himself, relaxing. "Just a dog. And here I was concerned about weevils or slitheen," he murmured to himself, squatting down. He patted his leg in an effort to call the creature over to him, figuring he may as well make a canine friend.

Said canine, on the other hand, simply cocked his head and plopped down into a sitting position, making the dog equivalent of a mischievous smile and staring calmly at the man.

Frowning, Jack tried whistling. Then bluntly telling the dog to come. As a last resort, he even tried sweet-talking it. Nothing worked.

"Alright, you stupid mutt," Harkness grumbled, "Have it your way. See if I ever talk to you again." He rose up from his squat and turned deliberately on his heel, continuing on his way.

Unseen by the immortal man, the dog rose up also, and had a vigorous shake. That done, he trotted after Jack, somehow managing to give the impression not of a faithful pet, but as a free agent simply looking for a good time. Nose high in the air, but not high enough to look completely snooty, he wagged his tail slowly from side to side as he fell into step next to Jack.

Looking down, Jack groaned. "Oh, now you want to come, huh?" He smirked at his word choice.

With a deep bark, the creature wiggled its tail more vigorously for a moment, then settled back into its cool, calm manner.

Jack laughed heartily, greatly enjoying what seemed to be a sense of humour on a dog. He momentarily contemplated bringing the animal to the hub for Owen to test. Perhaps it wasn't exactly a dog, but a similar-looking sentient alien. It wouldn't surprise Jack. Then again, not much did anymore. But he doubted the creature, from Earth or not, would want subject itself to any of Owen's medical tests.

"Better to be free, don't you think?" Jack said aloud, bending only slightly to scratch the brown scalp of the dog.

Pressing closer to the hand, it barked its agreement.

"I suppose you think you can come home with me, then?" Jack said, making conversation. He had done his fair share of one-sided conversation in the past. Not every species he had dated came with a voice box, nor a spoken language. "I'm afraid you'll have to wait, if that's the case. Ianto could be around and he does get jealous."

The dog seemed to be catching every word as Jack babbled on, ignoring the fact that he was using his charm on a dog, not something date-able. He wouldn't necessarily draw the line at dogs, but he could think of a few others he would choose over any animal, one of which he would see just a few hours after dawn.

The two were so intent, one talking, the other listening, that they didn't realize where they were heading. In Jack's defence, he had no clue what was awaiting him in the abandoned alley in which they had wandered. The dog, however, had many adventures in said alley, all of them including a good fight to the death.

A low growling sound brought the dog to his senses. He immediately went on alert, whipping around with teeth bared and hackles raised. He made no sound.

Seeing this, Jack tensed also, quickly grabbing his gun and pointing it the same way the dog faced. Right at a pack of weevils.

"Of course they would come and ruin the fun," Jack said, quickly spinning to check his backside. It was all clear from behind, a pleasant surprise.

Although Jack was itching for a good weevil fight, he knew his odds against a pack were slim. And Ianto would not be happy if he died. Again. With this in mind, he began to back up, keeping the gun pointed at the group of snarling rift hitch-hikers. He urged the dog to follow, speaking urgently, but softly to it.

At first, the creature obeyed, but grudgingly. It too began to walk backward. But when the first weevil rushed, so did the dog.

"Damn it," Jack cursed as chaos ensued. The rest of the pack rushed, too, tripping over the dead as Jack fired accurately into one after the other, usually requiring two or three bullets before each dropped.

The dog, too, was fighting well. He would leap up, take a deep bite of the weevil, then bounce back out of reach before attacking from a different angle. Man and dog both were taking a sick sort of pleasure in their work.

But two were no match against the dozens. Weevils surrounded Jack first, attacking even as they were shot. And then, the bullets ran out, and Jack's fate was sealed. He lashed out as he became the bottom of a weevil dog pile, throwing punches until his moment of death.

The dog, seeing his doomed comrade, joined the heap, only to suffer the same fate at the hands and teeth of the hideous weevil. Both bodies were left mutilated as the sun came up, the weevils having left to sleep in their nearby nest.

Back at the Hub, Ianto had just finished searching for Jack, having thought he was trying to initiate a game of naked hide-and-seek. No such luck.

"Owen, I'm going to..." Ianto stopped as he realized no one else had shown up for work yet. He sighed and grabbed his coat. He would have to go save Jack's arse alone. Ianto wasn't stupid. He figured the man had gotten into some kind of trouble, and if Tosh's scribbled note about a possible weevil nest was right, then Ianto would find him on the other side of town, hopefully without another rejected visit from the grim reaper.

Jack awoke, gasping loudly for air as he jerked up into a sitting position, to the feel of caressing licks on his leg. It wasn't his worst way to come back, but it was certainly one of the odder first feelings after death.

Jack looked down at his leg to find a familiar dog lying next to it, softly gliding its tongue over a huge rip in Jack's trousers, a bit high up on his thigh.

"How the hell did you make it through that, boy," Jack asked, scratching the dog's head. The creature had no wounds to show, its fur as nice and neat as the first time Jack saw it.

Jack himself had no wounds to show, only a lingering pain from where they used to be. A pain he knew would vanish within the day. It would take less time if he were to be distracted by his favourite employee.

As if the thought conjured him up, said man walked around the corner, his own gun pulled. He looked frantic, but still moved with the lithe calmness of a cat, quiet and smooth. His training required him to secure the area before attending to Jack, so he rapidly looked around, and finding it relatively safe, ran over to his lover.

"Jack!"

"Ianto," Jack said calmly, a grin spreading across his newly healed face. "Good to see you, Yan!"

Ianto grabbed the captain's arm and pulled him to his feet roughly. He then stepped back for a moment and tried to glare sternly at the older man. But he just couldn't be angry at Jack, not completely.

"Don't you ever do that again," Ianto said, his stern mask falling into one of complete concern.

Jack laughed softly, then stretched out his arms and wrapped the Welshman in an embrace. "Never," he agreed, thinking that he wouldn't do that again. At least, not the exact same thing. Something similar, most likely.

Looking up to keep the tears at bay, Ianto fiercely hugged him back, glad to be with his captain again.

No one knows how long the reunion would have lasted if a certain well-groomed dog hadn't nosed his way in between the two men, determined not to miss out on the affection. In the process, he forced the men to separate.

"What's with the dog?" Ianto asked, putting out a hand for the creature to sniff.

Jack shrugged. "Dunno. Attacked the weevils like a true hero, though. And not a scratch on him."

Ianto looked at him sceptically, then back to the dog, who wagged his tail gleefully, creating quite a breeze behind him.

"Anyway," Jack continued, "I could use a shower. I'm sure I smell fantastic to the mutt here, but real people may think differently."

Ianto bit his tongue to avoid stating that Jack always smelled good to him, and instead nodded, saying, "I'll take you back to the hub, then. Unless you'd rather use the shower at my place?"

Before Jack could agree, the canine leapt up on Ianto, putting its large paws on the man's shoulders, and with a quick lick on Ianto's nose, began to hump the poor man.

"Get off!" Ianto said, pushing the dog back on all fours. The creature, with no shame whatsoever, sat back and just looked in amusement at him, seeming to radiate doggy charm that melted away most of the anger Ianto just had. But little of the disgust left.

Harkness, on the other hand, just laughed. "That's my kind of dog! Can survive alien attacks, and always goes for the best-looking person present afterwards. Clever mutt. I don't suppose-"

"You are not getting a dog. Myfanwy is enough trouble," Ianto interrupted, knowing exactly what Jack was going to ask before he did so.

"But it'd be like having a dog version of me!" Jack pouted.

Taking his arm, Ianto turned Jack away and towards the Torchwood vehicle. "Believe me, Jack, one of you is more than enough," he said softly, giving Jack a look that told the captain good times were just in reach with the Welshman.

Looking back, the dog was nowhere in Ianto's field of vision. As if it had more important things to do now that the prospect of a certain kind of love was out of reach.

"We don't need anyone else like you," Ianto added, grinning in a way that made Jack's mind wander to the possibilities of the next few hours, "Not even a dog with the same perverted mind."

What Ianto didn't mention was that the animal reminded him a bit too much of Jack, as if it really were the captain, but in the shape of a canine. But he refused to let himself believe such nonsense. That was too weird, even for Torchwood.

Right?


	5. The Library

_Just thinking about Torchwood in school... And this idea popped in my head! Just a short drabble, no warnings needed. Enjoy!_

**The Library Book**

The library was quiet, a surprising atmosphere when Jack was in the room. Of course, eligible dates were missing from the scene and even Harkness was above pedophilia. Without the promise of hot romance, maybe it wasn't so surprising that the air was still and dull.

Checking his arm-piece impatiently for the time, Jack sighed quietly. Thanks to his team and him, the normal school librarian was... occupied. The creature, an alien cleverly disguised as a middle-aged man, was residing at the Torchwood base for the time being. He had done no harm, but Jack hadn't known that. He may have assumed the opposite... The end result was one innocent knocked-out alien, disguise gone, a quick cover-up operation, and a substitute librarian.

Or rather, Jack pretending he was a certified substitute librarian.

"Excuse me, Mr..." a preteen girl asked, holding up a book.

"Harkness. Jack Harkness," the captain posing as a media specialist said.

"Right, Mr. Harkness," the girl said, trying to hide a giggle, "I'd like to check out this book."

_And I'd like to check out someone older than 12, _Jack thought, surveying the dusty room of kids.

"Alright, what's your name?" he asked, trying to avoid catching her eye. She was clearly trying to catch his.

"Donna Noble," the red-haired girl said proudly, handing him the book.

Jack took the library book scanner and pages through a book of names and their corresponding bar codes. He scanned hers, then accepted the book and scanned that. The front cover captured his attention. It had two people kissing, and one of them looked a bit like him.

"That's my favourite book," Donna said, leaning over the counter.

Jack checked the author and groaned. He remembered him. The man who had nearly fallen off a cliff at the hand of an extraterrestrial. Harkness had been there to save him, and had gotten into a regrettable situation that not even Retcon could make the author forget about.

It had been fun at first, but that man was clingy. And then, the fun grew into something a bit more than what Harkness was prepared for. Jack began to make appearances into the man's writings, sometimes a heroic knight with a knack for finding distressed damsels, other times someone a bit more sexual. Every time, his name was used.

Burning the books was what had caused their break-up. That author was in a personal relationship with his books, and seeing them burn in a fire under Jack's grim face caused him to go crazy.

It was not a fun death by the pen for Jack. Stabbed over fifty times, he fell to the ground and awoke in the same place next to a smoldering pile of ash. A week later, the author was found stumbling around in a daze, rattling off the stories that couldn't be real, stories of aliens and monsters and a man who burned books. He found a nice bed in the loony bin.

Apparently, one of his books survived. And it was in the hands of a young girl.

"You know," the girl continued, "The main character has the same name as you."

"Funny coincidence," Jack said smoothly, then paused. "You don't think you'd like to read a different book? Something new?" He so wanted to take that hunk of binded paper and light it up, preferably with all its copies. The less was known about Jack's history, the better.

Donna smiled and hugged the book, "As if, Book Man," she said, skipping away.

Jack's forced smile fell and he rubbed his face. He really hated writers.


End file.
